The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix Part Three

CXVIII: Entry Papers

Remus tried at first to be angry with Sirius for leaving. He told himself that Sirius would come back to Costa Rica shortly, that it wouldn't be a long time he'd be gone, that somebody needed to stay and care for the house, to keep the cobwebs away, to keep things from going back to just the way they were before. He'd sweep the floors and dust the shelves, he'd keep the kitchen tidy and continue going to the cafe in town and the bookstore and sitting on the beach and watching the waves and sleeping in their bed, Sirius's side ever open, ever waiting for the presence of that shaggy black dog...

But it didn't take long for Remus to realize that, instead of keeping things from going back to the way they were before, he was actually making things go back to EXACTLY the way they were before... like they'd been in the year following 31 October, 1981. 

Hadn't he preserved a place as long as he could, alone, already?

How many times had he spent a day on his knees scrubbing the lino floor in the kitchen of the flat in East London? The place had smelled of lemon floor cleaner for months, the fumes so thick that he'd been dizzy coming home.

At least this place didn't have a crippling rent to pay.

He sat, hugging his knees, staring out at an angry sea one day, a few after Sirius had left, rain falling over him in a torrent that ought to have driven him indoors. Instead, Remus simply hung his head and let it fall over him. The happy place that he and Sirius built had become eroded, just like the sand castle that had stood on the shore since Sirius had built it the day before the owl came.

He'd been right, he realized, the secret to the comfortable life they'd build had been the presence of Sirius Black, and without him there, even the sun refused to shine.

Remus sighed, pushed himself up from the sand, and walked resolutely back to the shack. He kicked off the sand covered flipflops on the porch and used a towel to wipe his feet clean before going inside. He shrugged off the leather jacket Sirius had left behind, and hung it up on the back of the chair at the table. Then he went and he changed in the bedroom, drawing his old tweed trousers and jacket from the trunk, his oxford button up, a tie, his loafers with the holes in the soles... He combed his hair for the first time in a while, looking in the mirror at his green eyes staring back, and he shrugged the jacket into place on his shoulders, watching his own fingers sling the tie into place, tightening the windsor knot right up to his chin.

Ah, yes, there's the Remus Lupin that I recognize, he thought. Whoever that fun, bright-patterened shirt wearing faker was, it wasn't me... and I suppose the fates knew that. Probably went about having a good laugh at my expense, rather. He chuckled and shook his head. 

Most things could stay, he decided. They'd be back, he told himself. There was no reason to pack up all the books, to gather all the clothes. No reason to take down the Please Return to Remus Lupin t-shirt flag, or to bring along the records or the leather jacket. He only closed the windows because of the pesky animals that lived in the trees. Didn't need any monkeys working their way into the house and throwing things around while they were gone.

He locked the door and set the protection charms without looking back because he was certain they'd return.

He was sure of it.

He disapparated from just outside of the charms bounds.

International disapparation was something he'd done only a few times - and it was a tedious and exhausting exercise, traveling through assigned disapparation checkpoints. Costa Rica wasn't as strict as other countries, getting on the approval for the pass was simple - within moments he was given his paperwork and sent on his way from San Jose.

San Jose to San Salvador in El Salvador to Merida in Yucatan, Mexico. Merida to Havana, Cuba, and on to Miami, Florida in the United States, where his pass needed to be renewed by MACUSA.